


Stuck In Between

by callmealexandra, targaryxngorx



Series: Stuck In Between [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gore, Original Character - Freeform, Pain, Please Don't Hate Me, Rape, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmealexandra/pseuds/callmealexandra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/targaryxngorx/pseuds/targaryxngorx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not fall in love with people like me.<br/>I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.<br/>I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people. Tell me, when is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blindness and heat. The black soon faded from Danielle's eyes, and she knew where she was.   
“Damn it, Lucifer! I told you to stop doing that,” She snarled.   
“Sorry, hun, can't help myself.”  
His laugh was like setting concrete, smooth, yet it became cold and gravelly.  
“What do you want now? This is the third time today.”   
“Gotta enter you,” He said. “Gotta pay someone a visit.”   
“No killing,” She said with a long sigh.   
“No promises.”  
* * *   
The transfer was easy, a painless process, but nonetheless exasperating. Danielle was used as a vessel once more. Lucifer made her leave Hell, and oddly he brought her straight to the bunker. It was nearly three A.M. but Lucifer had Danielle walking inside. She could hear the ruffle of Dean shooting up out of bed, and she knew to put her hands up, for he'd have the gun when he left the room. Lucifer let Danielle take charge from there. Dean quietly stepped towards Danielle, pointing the small gun towards her.  
“Dean. What the Hell are you doing?! It's me!” She said.  
Dean lowered the gun and started yelling to Sam.   
“Sammy, you can clear the salt line, It's Dani!”  
Danielle laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head.  
“Was there something you needed?”   
“Oh, I just... got tired of driving around. Didn't wanna anymore,” She said.   
“I see.”   
She could hear Lucifer's chuckle inside her head as he sent orders running through her mind. Following one, she walked to the chipped light switch and turned on the light.   
“It was dark in here. Real dark.”   
Lucifer sounded much more malicious the next time he spoke.   
'Wanna see a trick?' He asked.   
Danielle knew that even if she declined his offer, he'd continue anyway. After all, this was most likely part of his plan.  
'Fine. Don't wanna answer, I'll do it anyway.'   
Danielle felt a small, barely noticable tingling sensation behind her eyes. Her eyes flickered black for a moment, and Dean gave her a weird look.   
“Danielle. What the Hell was that?”   
She could hear the cackling rushing through her head like a waterfall.   
“What was what, Dean?”   
“Your eyes. Why did they turn black like a... like a demon's?” He asked. “Who is it? Who the Hell is inside of you, Danielle?”  
Danielle mentally cursed Lucifer and she could hear him laugh.   
'I've been called worse, hun.'  
Dean grabbed Danielle's shoulders and stared at her coldly.   
“Who. The Hell. Is it?”   
Danielle bit her lip, not ready to give an honest answer.   
“It's no one, Dean, no one,” She said, knowing fully well that Dean wouldn't hesitate being rough with her if he knew she was doing.   
“Don't lie to me. You know I can see right through you,” He said, motioning for Sam, who stood by the door, to come closer.   
“Sammy, the water. I need it.”   
At this point, Lucifer took charge. He lunged at Sam, knocking him over just as Dean ran to retrieve the Holy Water himself. Danielle's eyes were now completely black, and her voice was noticably deeper. Lucifer leaned towards Dean's ear, whispering “Ready to say 'yes', Sam?”   
A devilish smirk flashed across Danielle's face.   
“Lucifer!” Sam gasped. “Dean, it's Lucifer!”   
Sam pushed Danielle away from him and rolled off, running is the direction of his brother. Picking up the dagger from beneath his pillow, he began yelling to Dean.   
“Where the Hell are you? Hurry up!”  
Dean rushed toward Sam, throwing the jug of holy water towards him. Sam caught the jug, turning to pour it on Danielle, but instead having it taken and the jug thrown to the floor.   
“Ah ah ah, ” Lucifer voiced, “None of that.”   
Danielle tried hard to push herself back into control, but she was in no way stronger than Lucifer, and she eventually gave up. Her soul ached, and inside she was crying. She was restless and twitchy, wanting to be in control, but unable to make it happen. Lucifer pulled the knife from underneath the garter around Danielle's thigh. He held it to Sam's throat, pushing him against the wall. Dean tried running towards his brother, but failed greatly, being pushed and held against the opposite wall by Lucifer's power.   
“How about a 'yes', huh, Sammy?”  
Sam choked a little on his reply. “No.”  
Danielle returned to trying to force her way in control, being successful for a few moments. She dropped the knife to the floor and let go of Sam. Dean fell to the ground with just as much force as the knife.   
“I-I'm sorry,” Danielle said with a short breath.   
Sam gave Danielle a look of disappointment, whereas Dean gave a look of anger and hatred. He took a knife and cut a long strip on his palm, using the blood to draw what Danielle recognised as an Enochian Angel banishing sigil. He slammed his bloody hand down onto it, sending Danielle back to Hell again. She was now on her own, Lucifer sitting before her, looking rather annoyed.   
“Now what did I tell you about interfering with my negotiations?”  
“I told you to leave the Winchesters alone.”  
“But I never agreed, did I?” Lucifer asked.   
Danielle shook her head.  
“Now. You should know by now what your punishment for interference will be. Al?”  
A tall man with pale blue eyes and a scruffy, graying goatee walked out from the shadows. His name was Alastair.   
“Tch tch tch. You've been naughty girl this past week. We'll have to work on that, won't we,” he voiced with a slight lisp.   
“Leave me alone, Alastair.”   
“Oh, sweetheart, you know I can't do that. Besides, don't you like our little... "sessions"?”   
His lips curled into a malevolent smile as he laid a hand on Danielle's shoulder. She shivered and let him lead her to a cavern-ish area. There were hooks and chains dangling from the ceiling and a menacing rack toward the left side of the room. Blood caked the floor; most was dried, but there was an occasional wet noise that erupted with a step or two. Alistair turned to her, grinning widely. The grin that sent chills down Danielle's spine.   
“You know my rules, sweetheart. Now, follow them.”   
Danielle sighed shakily, kicking off her boots and sliding her jacket off of her arms. She lifted her shirt, dropping it beside her boots.   
“My, my, you've gotten thinner since our last time together,” Alastair said with a twisted smile.   
“Well, demons don't eat, you know,” She said sarcastically. This was all just a side effect of nervousness; normally, she wouldn't have talked like that to Alastair, the demon in charge of torture.   
“Was that sarcasm in your voice?”   
Danielle slightly cringed. She would pay for her tone.  
“I'm one hundred thirty six pounds of pale skin and fragile bones; sarcasm's my only defense!”  
Alastair nodded as if taking note of her response. “We both know this is untrue. Continue.”  
Danielle hung her head and unbuttoned the top of her skirt, pulling it off. She then pulled off her forgotten socks.   
He "guided" (more so forcefully led her to) the blood stained, rusted rack towards the corner of the room. Danielle held up her wrists to the edges of the rack and shut her eyes tightly, forcing herself not to watch Alastair impale them with the bars. She hear the snap of the bars pushing through, and she felt the blood leave her wrists and drip to the already caked floor. Alastair chuckled, piercing the other wrist and pushing it through slowly. He did the same to both of her ankles, slowly and painfully, until she was fully suspended on the rack. The slightest movement tore her wounds open more and caused her to whimper in pain. There was a cold chill in the room, and Danielle could feel the risen gooseflesh all over her nearly nude body. Alastair pushed a single long fingernail into the back of her neck. Danielle heard the squish and felt the dripping of blood down the side of her neck. He dragged his fingernail down her neck and down her back, snapping the fabric of her bra and tearing the flesh, all while chuckling. He picked up one of the curved blades and placed the tip of it in the crook of her neck, cutting all the way around. The was blood now dripping from several open wounds. Alastair pulled one of the hooks down from the ceiling and pushed it through her back. The chains on the ceiling pulled at the hooks, pulling at her skin as well.   
“Ready for the real fun?” Alastair asked, smirking.   
Danielle inhaled sharply, shaking her head. “No...” She said breathlessly. “No.”  
Alastair laughed,“Well, I'm not really giving you a choice, am I?”  
Danielle shivered as she felt the cold, curved blade being dragged across her thin hips and hooking under the thin fabric of her panties. She heard the fabric tear and felt it fall, and soon the other side was ripped as well, revealing her sex to the demon before her. She let out a small whine and she bit back another. Alastair dragged a single long finger across her clit, causing her cunt to drip achingly. Danielle inhaled with the sharpness of a blade, arching her back to move away from the demon's rough, calloused hands. She could hear the hooks tearing through more of her flesh as she did this, and she groaned with the immense pain of it.   
"Please, Alastair... Please. I'll do anything," Danielle whined, trying to compose herself.   
Alastair chuckled, tilting his head, "Anything?"  
She nodded, the wound across the nape of her neck oozing blood as it tore open, and suddenly, she wasn't on the rack anymore. Her wounds were now partially healed, and she felt the demon's hands caught in her blood streaked locks. He pulled at her hair, simultaneously pushing her to her knees. Her tear stained face was pushed against his thigh, his phallus pressed against her cheek. Her mind wandered as she vaguely heard him muttering "Suck it, whore." She took his cock into her mouth, thinking of better times rather than the torture that was happening that very moment. She was reminded of a tea party with her sister. She was six, her sister was eleven. The memory was three years before she began to hate her sister. Three years before her "untimely death".


	2. Chapter 2

The taste was sweet, yet slightly salty. It reminded Danielle of a cake she'd had once as a child. Matter of fact, it was a cake she'd eaten at the tea party with her now dead sister. Dead at the hands of Danielle.

_Cake and Sodomy_

The tune was familiar. An old favorite of Danielle's. She hadn't heard it lately until now.

_Cake and Sodomy._

**_Cake and Sodomy._ **

She finally began thinking sensible. She dug her nails into the demons thighs, semen dribbling from the corners of her mouth. The taste of him was still fresh on her tongue. She pushed backwards, falling onto her back. Danielle could hear Alastair chuckle, for his laugh echoed about the room like a bat out of Hell. But this, in fact, was Hell. And Danielle was the bat, still trapped inside. Bound by a contract she'd signed ignorantly when she was ten.

She heaved, pushing herself fron the bloody floor. She walked to the pile where she'd left her clothes and hastily began putting them on. Alastair was now seated on a chair that was not there, contently smoking a cigarrette. The pack beside him was half full, and in his hand was a silver, metal lighter with the letter "D" engraved into the smooth surface. Danielle zippered her jacket to her chin, sticking her hands inside the pockets.

"What the hell?" She began. She turned to face him.

"Nice to know you are fond of this place," He said between puffs of the cigarette. He blew the smoke in her direction. She stormed over to him, demanding he return the pack to her. "Ah, ah, ah," he teased. He grabbed the pack and the lighter, holding them behind his back. Danielle attempted to snatch them away from him, instead being pulled into his lap.

"How about a little something, for _all of my troubles_ dealing with you." He took another drag and blew the sharp, dry smoke into her face. Danielle coughed, turning her face from his.

"Fuck you," She spat.

"Weren't you protesting it a little while ago, hm?" He asked, with a raspy chuckle. "Why did you want this little old thing anyway? You could have Hell fire at the palms of your impossibly small hands, yet you decide to use this little flamestick. Why?"

Danielle bit her lip for a moment before trying to writhe out of his grip. He knew. He knew. "Ah... I see. Your little boytoy Sam Winchester gave it to you. A nameday gift, perhaps?" He said with a devilish smirk. "He must mean a lot to you, huh? You think he knows about your little dance with the devil? Maybe word's traveled to him about your dear sister. What was her name? Ah, yes. Emery. _Sweet little Emery, who never even got to live past her fifteenth name day."_

Danielle was crying now. Tears stained the leather of her jacket.

"What- What do you want from me, Alastair?" "You know exactly what I want, _sweetcake_."

///

She raged away from the dim room into the bright, fiery throne room of Hell.

"Lucifer!" She shouted, over the sound of screaming souls. "Put me back on earth. Right now."

"Fun with Alastair, I assume," he chatised. That gravelly laugh again.

"Screw you."

"Well, but the state of your diminishing soul, Al already has. Your soul is full of holes. Spongy like a cake. That little memory you had me hide in the depths of it may begin to slip out soon," Lucifer said with a well placed smirk. "You might also consider cleaning up all of that blood."

Danielle spotted a trail of blood running down her thighs. She hadn't spotted it before, but she knew what it was, and where exactly it came from.

"Can you please just send me back. I don't wish to be here anymore. I don't belong here..." She wanted to get home more so to apologise to Sam and Dean.

"Of course you do. Remember, you're the one who signed the contact," Lucifer reminded her. Danielle looked down at her feet.

"Yes I know. How could I forget? Please-" Before she could finish her sentence, she found herself on earth. More importantly, directly outside of bunker. Danielle took a deep breath and stepped towards the door, knocking lightly. Almost instantly, the door opened and she was greeted ever so warmly by a splash of holy water and a cut with an Angel blade.

"It's me, Dean. Really me," She said quietly. But it wasn't Dean. It was Sam.

"Am I welcome here?" She asked. Sam nodded,

"Of course... You know you're always welcome here." Danielle thanked him, and walked inside, willing herself not to cry then and there. She felt sick to her stomach as he tried to lead her past Dean. It didn't work. Dean looked up from the laptop, his eyes instantly widened.

"What the hell is she doing here?" He asked, standing up from his chair. "Is that even her?" Sam finally spoke up after the shock of being caught.

"Yes, Dean. It's really her. I checked."

"We need to talk," And that was all Dean said.


	3. Chapter 3

Danielle was ashamed. They were never meant to know. Neither of them. She hated having Dean angry with her. She walked quietly to her room, curling up on the small bed. She began to cry. The blood that was still dripping down her legs began to stain the sheets, making the thin blue sheets turn a sickly purple. The half healed wound began to fester, tearing open more and more as she moved. Soon after she stopped crying, she heard a knock at her door. She wiped at her face before walking over and letting the visitor inside.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Danielle asked.

"I- Can we talk? Please?"

Danielle stepped aside to let him in. He nodded in thanks and stepped inside. She had long changed the sheets so that no blood remained. After locking the door, Danielle sat beside Sam on the bed, which was barely large enough to fit the both of them.

"So, uhm, what did you need?" She asked.

Sam looked at her, "I wanted to ask about the whole "Lucifer inside of you" ordeal. Could you maybe explain it to me? "

Danielle heavily sighed. "When I was nine, I... hated my s-sis-sister. One morning, she tr - tried to..." She felt a rising in her throat, and suddenly, she felt very lightheaded. Leaning over the bed, she began to vomit, tears streaming down her face. Sam quickly reached to pull her hair up, revealing the cut across the nape of her neck. Soon after making sure she was okay, Sam began to inspect the sore wound.

"What the hell happened, Dan?"

"Please. Please don't make me talk about it." Danielle said, beginning to cry again.

"Okay, okay, I won't. Not today at least. Could you tell me and Dean tomorrow?"

Danielle nodded, trying to remain in the same sitting position, for she knew the sheets were beginning to soak with her blood again. She hoped he hadn't noticed it, but her hopes were already lost.

"Dani, what the hell, you're bleeding!" He yelled, standing up quickly. "Let's go, you're explaining this right now."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the sitting room. "Sit here l here and wait while I get Dean," He said, rushing away to retrieve his brother.

As soon as Sam turned the corner, Danielle felt tears slide down her freckled cheeks. She felt childish, sitting here waiting to be punished. She wiped at her face, and then at the bloodied mess of her thighs. She silently cursed Alastair for putting her in this mess. Sam walked back in, followed by Dean, who looked very angry about being disturbed.

"Okay what is this about?" He asked.

Danielle looked down ashamedly as she began to explain the same thing she attempted to explain to Sam. Everything was as it should have been. Until she spotted Him.

"...she tried to..." looking straight behind Dean, she became enraged. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just enjoying my _favourite_ part of the story." The familiar voice echoed through the bunker, causing the brothers to turn, facing the source.

"Lucifer!" Dean shouted, standing up so suddenly that the chair beneath him slid backwards.

"Winchester!" Lucifer shouted back.

Dean, dropping an Angel blade from his jacket sleeve, stormed close to the Angel. Not too long after attempting to impale the devil, Dean was forcefully held up against the wall.

"Let him go!" Danielle yelled, rushing over to Lucifer. "Let him go. What do you want?"

"Oh, I was just here to make sure you told the truth and the whole truth, so help you "God". That is, until Deanieweenie over here decided that my death, and the Hell on Earth that would follow it was much, _much_ better."

"If you let him go... I - I'll tell them everything. I won't spare any details. I swear."

Dean fell to the ground, and angrily walked beside Dani.

"I killed my sister. Okay. When I- When I was nine, I wished my sister would go to H-Hell," She began to cry. "I never meant it. I was nine! But a few hours later, I found her dead in my kitchen. Lucifer was there. He told me he wanted some kind of repayment, and because at the time I was grateful, I signed. I signed a contract that I didn't read, and from then on, I was forced to be a willing vessel to Lucifer and any other demon that was in need of one."

Danielle could hear Lucifer laughing behind her. Dean looked disappointed but he said nothing.

"I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this." She was crying harder now. "I-I just want my life back. I'm tired of demons, and Hell, and- and-" She hesitated.

"And what?" Luce chuckled. "What is it you wish to tell them, little whore?"

Dean glared at Lucifer, "Watch yourself, you prick."

"I only speak the truth. What Daniel here wants to tell you is she's tired of the _sex_. She's tired of the _dirty, bloody, painful sex._ "

Danielle collased, trying not to remember the most recent example of Lucifer's taunting.

"She's tired of being Al's little _slut_. Isn't that right, _princess_?"

"Shut up, Lucifer!" She yelled. She was sobbing now. "Just shut up!"

"Just take a look at the state off her legs, all bloodied up and such. Looks like Alastair had lots of fun tonight. Possibly, it was her firs-"

"Get out," Sam muttered. "Leave. Now." His hand was covered in blood while he sloppily pressed it onto what looked like an Angel banishing sigil. And with a flash of light, Lucifer was gone, laughing his way to Hell.


	4. Chapter 4

Danielle sighed, "Can I go now, please?"

"Dan... You know I'd love too, but- but we need you here,"

"You can't do this!"

"Dani, we need you to tell us what happened."

"No! No, you can't. You can't make me," She was crying now. "You can't make me talk about it."

"We just want to help. You were _raped_ , Dani."

"You don't get it! I _wasn't_ raped, okay?! I'm not the victim here! I put myself in this situation and I faced the consequences. That is all!" She yelled. "Now please... just let me go."

She blindly reached into her pocket, reaching for the silver plated lighter. As she did this, she was engulfed in light. It was as if there were a fire burning inside her.

"Dani, quit fucking around. How the hell are you doing that?" Dean asked. "

It's not me..." She began, looking up at them. "It's Lucifer."

The floorboards sunk as if they were rotting, and Danielle disappeared beneath them. And when they sealed back up, she no longer remained

///

"Dean... What the hell just happened?"

Dean stared wide eyed at the place where Dani had sat.

"She's gone. She's in Hell." His face flashed with a million emotions when he said the word. _Hell_. A place of blood and pain and torture and _Alastair_.

"We have to get her, Sam."

"Dean! We can't! You're not going back to Hell. I won't let you," Sam told him.

"If you don't kill me, I will. We all know where I'm going when I die."

Sam felt a cold presence in the palm of his hand.

"Please, Sammy." Tears streamed down Sam's cheeks as he plunged the knife up into Dean's chest. He went limp, falling to the floor in a bloody, crumpled mess. Sam kneeled beside him, his head in his tear-stained hands.

///

The line between extreme heat and extreme cold is finer than a single hair. Hell, in fact, was no exception to this. Dean stood in the middle of a dark corridor he knew all too well, and frankly, he didn't know whether he were burning or freezing slowly from the inside out. Screams echoed all around him, but Dean just took a deep breath and searched his mind for the image of Alastair's dungeon and how to get there. This was not an easy task however, for majority of Dean's worst memories occurred right there in that room.

He sighed and took a step down the hallway. Slowly, he made his way to an old, rusty iron door. He heard no screams, but yet a faint feminine whimper escaped from underneath the door. He opened the door, careful to be very quiet. The scene he came to see was a violent, terrible thing; it was sickening enough to make Dean's stomach churn.

Danielle was on her knees, facing the old demon. Dean knew what was happening. He heard Danielle gag, and whimper as Alastair pulled at her hair. Dean stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him, but instead of it closing as smoothly as it had opened, it slammed shut. Danielle tried to pull Herself away from the demon, but he pulled her closed, her nose buried in the salt-and-pepper pubic hair.

"Don't worry, pet, it's only your good old pal. Here to be a knight in shining armour, aren't you, _Dean-o_?" Alastair said his name with utmost disgust.

Danielle whined at the sound of it. She didn't want him here. Not now, not ever. Tears and semen were beginning to dry on her pale, freckled cheeks.

"Get your filthy hands off of her," Dean managed to demand.

If he was truly honest with himself, he would know he was not strong enough to be here.

"Now why would I do that? You think I'm scared of you? I'm one of the oldest demons alive, and you, petty Dean Winchester, think I'm going to drop everything because _you_ said so? You've got me all wrong. Why would I drop this hot piece of meat? You know, she takes a cock like a _bitch in heat_."

Danielle choked back tears, trying to wrestle her way out of his grip, but Alastair was too strong. Dean ran at Alastair, Ruby's knife in hand, ready to plunge it straight into his heart, but that was only his imagination. He didn't run. He didn't even move. He was frozen on place, staring at the man who tortured him for so many years. And he couldn't bear it.


	5. Chapter 5

They didn't know when they got there. They didn't know how. The only thing Danielle and Dean knew for sure was that something was not right. They awoke from an unexpected sleep to find themselves trapped in an extremely small room with no openings. Painted on one of the stone walls in what looked like a thick black paste was an ominous message.

"Dean?" Danielle called, stumbling across the pitch black room.

She blindly felt her way around the room for a few minutes before walking into something. She screamed loudly before Dean covered her mouth.

"Hey, hey. It's just me," He said, moving his hand.

Danielle wrapped her arms around him, beginning to cry.

"Dean, I'm so scared."

Dean held her head against his chest, lightly stroking her hair.

"Shhh sh sh... We'll be fine, I promise," He whispered, planting a small kiss to her head.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed through the room, revealing the painted threat.

""It is said the human body can last thirty days without food. Three without water. Good luck. -your good old friend, Alastair."" Danielle read. "Does he really think-"

"That bastard is trying to kill us," Dean yelled.

"Dean," Danielle whispered. "What are the stages of starvation?"

"Dan, I really don't think that's going t-"

"Please..."

Dean took a deep breath. "During the first stages, your body will only produce enough glucose in the liver for a few hours. You will become ravenous, dizzy, and weak. You'll have to watch out when you stand up or even if you move. Your thirst will increase. In the second stage, fats will become your primary energy source. You'll lose weight to quickly for your body to handle. Your hair and fingernails will become brittle and cracked, and you'll have a severe case of cotton mouth. By the time you begin the third and final stage, you'll be as good as dead. Your body will begin using all and any proteins as energy until your body finally shuts down completely."

Danielle took this all in.

"We're going to die in here," She whispered.

"No. No, we're not. We're going to get out of here, okay? We're going to live," He told her. "He can't kill us. Well, he can't kill you. Not that I'm on board with the whole "vessel" thing but Lucifer needs you."

"Yeah. Yeah, Lucifer needs me. His _good little pet_. That's all I am. And Alastair needs me to get a decent _fuck_ whenever he wants. Or even just to cut me up for fucking shits and giggles! If that's what my life is worth, I would rather die. Jesus fucking Christ, _Dean, I want to die._ "

Dean cupped her face in his hands. "Stop. You don't mean that. I'm going to get you out of this even if it costs me my own life. You will make it out of this god damned mess, do you understand me?" Dean told her.

Danielle didn't say anything. Frankly, she didn't believe a word he said. She slumped to the floor, picking up a sharp rock and stuffing it in her pocket before Dean could see.

///

The next two days were agonising. Danielle had resorted to attempting to drink any microscopic source of water she could find. Dean finally snapped when he found her trying to eat whatever still - wet source was written on the dusty stone wall.

"Danielle Markette Walker. Do not, and I repeat, do not eat whatever that shit is. It's probably paint, and probably toxic as hell. You'll kill yourself," he said sternly.

"What the fuck does it matter anyway, Dee? I'm better off dead. Look at me!" She yelled, grabbing a clump of hair which promptly fell out as if it were never attached. "I'm dying, Dean. I'm getting colder by the day, my hair is falling out as if I'm ninety years old, my nails are cracked, and I'm getting sick. I can't even stand properly without my head spinning, and I feel like I dropped thirty pounds already! I _need_ to eat," She said before promptly taking a scoop of the slime and putting it in her mouth. Her face quickly changed as she swallowed. It became scared and anxious at the same time.

"Dean..." She said, tears forming in her now grey eyes. "This is- This is blood."

///

The next few days were no better. Dean's face became more and more gaunt, and Danielle resorted to sitting in one corner of the room where she'd found that when it rained, there was a small drip. Her hair began to grey quickly, and while Dean was finishing up the first stage, Danielle was in the median of stage two. Her mouth became a Sahara Desert, home to a cracking tongue, and yellowing teeth. Danielle had been using a rock she'd found to keep track of the days that had passed on the wall.

After twenty three days, Danielle began to snap. She was getting weaker and weaker, and soon, instead of sitting secluded in her corner, she would curl up to Dean's warmth. Those nights were the only ones that she slept well on.

She became very sick, and at one point, while Dean was asleep, she saw a mouse run across the floor, and in the quickest motion she could handle, she caught it and bit into it with the hunger of three starving men. Dean awoke to Danielle with the mouse's blood smeared across her face, and her head resting on his shoulder.

"Dani, what happened?" He gasped upon seeing her.

"Dean, I want to live."


	6. Chapter 6

The next seven days were absolute Hell. It was worse than any torture Danielle had ever experienced or imagined. Both Dean and Dani were too weak to do much of anything besides search for water. Just as they had thought, after the thirty days, they were returned to the real world. This time Alastair hadn't been as generous to return them to their original form. He left then with the pain and hunger of starvation, and worse yet, he'd separated them. Danielle had woken up on the side of a desert road. She sat there for five hours with her thumb pointing west until someone actually picked her up.

"Oh, dear god! What happened to you?" The woman asked. "We have to get you to a hospital!"

"No, please... Lebanon. I need to go to Lebanon, Kansas," She muttered.

The woman hesitated, but allowed her a ride under the impression that Danielle was going to Kansas.

"Miss, where am I?" She asked.

"Well, currently, we're checking you into Sullivan County Community Hospital. We're in Indiana."

Danielle's heart sunk.

She was nearly three states away from the bunker. The woman was kind enough to pose as her mother and check her into the hospital. The placed her into a large room by herself. For the first time in a while, she felt utterly alone. Normally she had Sam, or Dean, or _hell_ , even Alastair. But not this time. This time she was alone and she did not enjoy it a bit. She found a phone and called Sam's cell.

He picked up on the third ring, "Chris Stone speaking, how can I help you?"

"Sam?" She whispered, her eyes becoming moist. "Is Dee with you?"

"Dani? Yeah, Dean is here. Where are you?"

"I'm in a hospital in Indiana. Sullivan Community I think," She told him.

"Sullivan County Community Hospital? Well be right there, okay? Hang in there. Just listen to the doctors okay? They're only trying to help."

Danielle knew what he meant. She hated doctors. She felt that she was the only one who could help herself, but occasionally she accepted the held of Sam, Dean, or Bobby.

"Okay, Sam. I will," She said, hanging up the phone before anyone could see.

The nurses came in hourly to give her food and make sure she was okay, and twice a day, they gave her bitter, powdery vitamins to help the reparation of her hair and nails. She complied to every command. Sometimes they made her eat even when she knew her shrunken stomach couldn't handle it. It took Sam and Dean thirteen hours to reach her, and when they did, they did everything they could to get into the hospital.

"We work here," they told the head nurse.

"No you don't," She said. "You're Sam and Dean Winchester. Professional monster, demon, and anything else paranormal hunter. Your father helped me once when I was in a pickle. I've got your sister, I think that's who she is, here. Come on."

The woman led them to Danielle's room, and upon seeing them, Danielle began to cry.

"Sh, sh. Don't cry, Dan. Look. You both made it," Sam said, stroking her head. "You're both alive."

Dean turned to the nurse, "Can we take her home?"

"Hey, I didn't even check her in. I knew you'd be coming, and I know how Winchesters are about hospitals. Just take these," She said, handing Dean the bottle of vitamins for Danielle's hair and nails.

Danielle was already out of the bed and ready to go. She looked sickly, her hair greying at the roots, and he skin paler than normal. She now weighed eighty-five pounds, and looked it, too. Sam and Dean took turns driving home, letting Danielle comfortably sleep on the leather backseats of the Impala. Well, not exactly comfortably, for no matter what position she lay in, she would lay directly on top of a bruise, or an aching scar.

Once they finally reached the bunker, Danielle ran straight for the shower to wash the grime of that rough stone floor. The memory of that grime, that is. After an hour of Dani being in the shower, Sam began to worry. He knocked on the door before just walking inside. He found Danielle curled up under the direct stream of the showerhead. She looked to be crying, and Sam could make out the distinct structure of her bones.

"Dani?" He called. "Are you okay in here?"

"Please, Sam. I-I just need to be alone for a while, okay?"

Sam ignored her. He sat in the shower beside her, not caring whether or not his clothes got wet. He wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Please talk to me," He asked.

"Sam, that was the- the worst Hell I've ever experienced. I can deal with blood and physical torture. Hell, I can even deal with _rape_. But the mental torture I went through just a few mere days ago is too much. Sam, I ate a living mouse. _I ate a living fucking mouse._ I can't handle this anymore, Sam. What happened to me?" She sobbed.

Sam could say nothing, but instead he tightened his grip around her, giving her as much comfort as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

Within the next few weeks, Danielle gained some of her weight back and her hair looked much healthier in its colour and volume. Both her and Dean looked much happier, and Sam was relieved. He feared he would have to lighten the mood for them. However, some days, Danielle would think over her current situation and for a few days, she wouldn't speak. In those days, Sam would make futile attempts to keep everyone moving as a distraction. They'd gone on a lot more hunts, avoiding such that included demons.

"Someone else can take care of those bastards," Dean would say tiredly.

No one could agree more.

  
Recently, Sam had caught wind of a case involving a few disappearances and majour mood changes in very prestigious men. The three traveled to New Town, Pennsylvania, which took just about a full day. The ride was mostly silent, the only sound being the clatter of those damned Legos in the air vent.

Finally, the day after their arrival, they began following the trail of a senator gone rogue. Hesitantly, they let Danielle go alone to stake out the violent politician, but only under the circumstance that she wear a small camera that they could watch live feed on from the Impala. She was happy to be alone even just for a little while, but still, she remembered why she was there in the first place. Tip toeing up the stairs, she crept to the senator's office.

  
She slowly opened the door, and before she even got halfway inside the room, she was pushed up against the door frame. A strong hand grasped her neck tightly, sliding her up against the wall.

  
"Well, look who we have here! Miss Danielle Walker!" The senator's eyes flickered black. "Alastair's little _fucktoy_. Funny seeing you here, because I hear Al has been looking for you. Hear he's offering up a hefty reward too. Tell me. How have you been laying low for so long?"

"Don't objectify me," She spat.

  
"Oh, but I'm not objectifying you. I'm simply telling you like it is. I know, because I've seen it first hand."

  
"Azazel,"Danielle choked. "Put me- Put me down. Now."

  
Meanwhile, Sam had fallen asleep, and Dean was checking the oil of the Impala. Danielle called for them both.

"They're not coming for you, sweetie. Face it. It's just you and me," he said with a wide smirk.

  
"No. No, you're- you're wrong. They'll be here," She confirmed, trying to kick at him.

  
"You know, I wonder. With all of that torture with Al, you should be a demon by now. A _full blown, black eyed, killing machine_. Now, why hasn't that occurred yet? Hm?"

  
"Fuck you," She grunted, stuffing to release herself from his strong grip.

It was nearly imposible. Still holding her up, with his free hand, Azazel brought a blade from his pocket. He slowly dragged it down the bridge of her nose before taking it and making a deep slice in his arm.

  
"Fresh demon blood. Straight from the arm of yours truly," he smiled. "Open wide, because I think we'll have to change those pretty green eyes to a sickening black. Just like they should be."

  
He dropped her down from the doorframe, pulling her head back by her hair. Danielle tightly sealed her mouth. Azazel smeared the dark blood across her mouth, staining her skin. The urge to taste that sickly blood hit her like a train. She'd tasted the bitter yet utterly sweet liquid before but never from such a high legion of demon.

Danielle whimpered against his arm, using up all of the willpower she could manage to not stick her tongue out and just have a little taste, but it was no use.

The blood seeped past her lips, slipping onto her tongue. She tasted the bittersweetness of it, and gave in. She lapped at the demon's arm for several minutes until she collapsed. She felt power surge through the blackness of her veins.

Azazel took a hankerchief from his pocket , wiping at his arm, and faintly, he heard the sounds of two sets of heavy footsteps bounding up the office's stairs. In only a few mere moments, Sam had shot Azazel, using the prized colt. Azazel's eyes glowed, and he went out laughing.

  
Sam crouched at Danielle's side, gently shaking her. Dean followed behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder. Willing themselves not to cry, they continued shaking her.

"Danielle! Don't you die on me. You're a Winchester, you'll make it through this, okay? Do you hear me?!" Dean yelled, frantically checking for a pulse. There was a faint shadow of a pulse, lightly beating against her paling skin.

"Sammy, she's alive. There's-there's a pulse! What do we do?" He asked. Sam looked spacey.

"I-I don't know what we do," he said quietly almost guiltily. "Dani, please. Please, wake up."

Her eyes shot open. The boys were shocked, but even more so by the fact that Danielle's eyes were no longer that deep sea green. They were black. She sat up.

"Someone tell me what just fucking happened. I want to know right now," She demanded.

"Sam, her eyes. Her eyes," Dean said frantically. "Oh fuck, what do we do?"

"We don't do anything, Dean. She's still Danielle. Just... a little changed."

"Changed? Guys, what do you mean by changed?" She asked.

"You're a demon, Danielle."


	8. Chapter 8

"What the fuck do you mean, " _I'm a demon_ "?!"

"Look in the mirror," Dean told her, holding up one he'd just dismounted from a wall.

Danielle glanced into it, catching only the sight of her own black eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no. No!" She yelled, clawing at her face. "No, this can't be happening to me."

Danielle began laughing hysterically, tears slipping down her face. "This is a joke, right?!"

She then noticed the dark shadow of blood flowing through her veins. "Oh, fuck me!"

The boys left her to her own for they knew if they interfered, they could wind up hurt. They watched as she navigated through her own mode swings, beginning angry, and finishing off a sobbing heap in a corner.

"Dani--?" Sam called, slowly steping closer. He laid a hand light on her shoulder.

"Please. Just go away," She said. There was an angry, cracking tone to her voice.

"That bastard! He knew. He fucking knew!"

"Who knew what?" Dean asked.

Danielle finally lifted her head. "Azazel. He was there for a few of the, uh, the uh, tortures. And once, Alastair made me confess my greatest fear, and I said becoming one of them. He must have remembered. That bastard!"

"Listen, you're still the same Danielle that Sam screwed that one time. And a few other times, might I add," Dean said, playfully glaring at Sam. "The only thing different about you is your eye colour."

"No, Dean. You don't understand. I can't live like this!" She snarled.

Her eyes had still not changed from that eerie charcoal colour. The dark blood in her veins seemed to be pulsing. She began to calm. Her eyes slowly faded to their original colour, and the blood in her arms began to slow.

"Can we please just- just go home?" She asked quietly.

Upon asking, Dean allowed Danielle to drive home. While she did this, she stressfully tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. When they got home, Danielle said nothing, but she walked to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Danielle began sorting through her chest of drawers, searching for something suitable to wear.

This was until she came across a familiar, lacy fabric. She lifted the skirt from the drawer, gasping.

- _Markette is French, is it not?_

_Yes, sir. It is._

She knew exactly what this was.

\- _I see a lot of potential for this new information._

_Like what, Alastair?_

_-You use my name in vain. Sluts like you do not have the privilege to use my name. You're my whorey little French maid now._

She shook the memory out of her mind, and threw the skirt across the room. She would burn it later. Danielle then changed changed her clothes, ignoring that damned skirt while she cleaned up the room. But when she tried to sleep, dreams of that blood stained black fabric flitted around beneath her eyelids.

She dreamed of Alastair that night. But not only the ancient demon plagued her dreams. There was someone else.

 _Sam_.

She heard Alastair's gruff cackle, and the sound of a blade through skin. But that skin wasn't hers. She heard a deep, muffled scream.

 _Sam_.

Danielle was frozen. She could not act upon that familiar scream, but she so wanted to. She awoke in a cold sweat, with a tear streaked face. Tip toeing down the hall, she blindly made her way to Sam's room. Danielle walked inside, patting the bed in search of Sam. There was nothing.

"Shit," She whispered, quickly leaving the room to check outside. Danielle found him standing at the side of the road with his hands in his pockets.

"Sam!" She yelled, trying to be as quiet as possible.

This wasn't Sam. The stranger turned to face her. She had red hair, obviously too long to even be Sam's.

"You're not Sam. Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Anna. I need your help, Danielle," the girl spoke.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you. Now, hurry. There's not much time," She said, grasping a hold on Dani's arm.

Danielle felt a strong gust of wind, and she was no longer on the side of the street in Lebanon. She was in a dungeon of sorts.

"In that room, is someone I know you won't be too fond to see. But there is word that Alastair is killing prophets. I know this is going to be hard, but I need you to get answers. If it takes it, we need you to kill him," She explained.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I know you can do this." Anna gave Danielle's arm a quick squeeze before showing her the door. Danielle stopped abruptly.

"No, no, no. Anna, you don't understand. I _can't_ do this," Danielle brokenly explained.

And she was right.


	9. Chapter 9

Danielle stepped into the room, taking a deep breath. There was a tray of weapons sitting in the corner. And towards the front of the room, there was Alastair. He was lying on a surgical table, a rope around his ankles, his neck, and tying his arms under the table.

"Ah, sweetcake. I assume you're not here to rescue me, are you?"

"No, Alastair. Not now, not ever," She said quietly. She strode closer to the table.

"That's it, princess. Come on closer. I don't bite; unless you want me to," he jeered, giving Danielle a dramatic wink.

"You disgust me."

"I try, darling."

Danielle sighed and turned to grab something from the tray of tools. A knife.

"You know," Danielle began to choke on her words. "I wonder how much torture I would have to subject you to to make up for all the pain you've put me through."

"Oh! That's an easy one. Pick me!" Alastair shouted hoarsely. "It shouldn't take any at all, because you and I both know that you love the pain. That makes it a simulant of pain, not true pain. Deep down, you _love_ the pain."

Danielle sighed, dragging the knife down his chest, lightly cutting his skin. He flinched dramatically.

"Please, Danielle, please! I'll do _anything_!" He yelled mockingly. "Sound familiar, darlin'?"

Danielle stared blankly at the demon as she plunged the knife into his stomach, ripping it open with a twist of a knife and a spray of blood. She could feel as the knife slashed through the width of his intestines. She felt as the knife grazed his quick-beating heart. Alastair groaned, pushing his neck up against its bond. Danielle sunk her hand into the bloody mess that was his stomach.

"Do you know what demon blood tastes like, Alastair?" She asked quietly "Actually, I'm sure you do, so let me rephrase. Do you know what _your_ blood tastes like?" Danielle's eyes flickered black as she smeared the blood across his mouth.

 _Shit_.

"Well, well, well. I wasn't informed you've become what we've all been awaiting. I've taught you well, haven't I?" Alastair snarled as he sat up from the table, his binds falling to the concrete floor beneath them.

Danielle lunged at him, both of them toppling to the floor. Danielle straddled his chest, holding the blood caked knife to his throat.

"My, my. I _have_ taught you well!"

"Go to Hell, Alastair," Danielle growled breathlessly, cutting his neck a little with every movement.

"Been there, done that," Alastair groaned, a tinge of exasperation coating his voice.

"You know, Alastair, I've learned a lot from you. I can put up a fight now."

"Yeah? Well, _that's not good enough_!" He snapped, wrestling Danielle to the floor. In the process, he'd acquired the knife, holding it beside Danielle's right eye. "You're worthless and you know it! You disappoint all of your so-called friends. Think, child. How many of your goals have you actually accomplished?" 

Danielle gained composure. That was, until Alastair sported on of his signature grins. The years falling to the floor mixed to a bloody red.

"You belong to _me_ , and _no one_ else! You're just a filthy whore!" He spat, dragging a deep cut across the length of her face. Danielle heard a female voice in the back of her mind.

 _Danielle, you need to kill him_! Anna yelled inside her head.

Danielle whimpered, "I'm sorry... I can't. " Why the hell not!?

"I-I love him."


	10. Chapter 10

"What the hell, Sam!?" Dean shouted, throwing a chair out of his way. "How could you be so careless? How could you just let her go like that? You know how she is!"

"I was in the bathroom, Dean! There's nothing I could have done to stop this! How about we just stop arguing and find her?" Sam suggested, rubbing at his temples.

"Yeah. Let's find her, how the hell do you suggest we-"

"Her phone, Dean," Sam whispered. "When you call her phone, it tells the city she's in!" Sam quickly pulled out his phone, dialing in the number "2". It rang once before showing her location.

She was in Loveland, Colorado.

///

The only thing heard in the dim dungeon were quiet gasps, moans, and whimpers. Scared cries were an anomaly, but not entirely nonexistent. Danielle now sported several cuts on her face, legs, and a few broken ribs. She whined loudly as Alastair shoved inside of her. He held the blade just under the curve of her breast, cutting it a bit with each thrust. Small flashes of light from the demon blade erupted with each scar.

"You know, you're not the only pet I've ever had. _Dean Winchester_ ," Alastair said his name lovingly, yet cruel at the same moment. "He was a feisty one," he smiled. "But alas, I broke him. I broke him in thirty."

Alastair let out a long groan as hot cum spurted from the bulging tip of his cock.

"It only took you one year to break. That's because there's darkness _inside of you, princess_."

///

Dean found Anna standing outside of the dungeon, her head in her hands.

"I tried so hard to help! All I wanted was to be let back into Heaven for saving the prophets," She cried. "I wanted to be a hero, but they can't know I left."

She obviously didn't see Dean.

"If you want to be a hero," Dean started, grimly. "then you zap me right in there and you'll be a hero."

Dean grabbed a hold of Anna's arm, and suddenly he was in that moan-filled, dungeon. Alastair had Danielle pinned to the dusty floor, and was beginning to leave deep bites around her collarbone. Dean took note of the sickly bruises and cuts scattered across her body. She was bleeding in several different places, and her skin seemed discoloured in more than one way.

Quietly, Dean stepped to the two, dropping his Angel Blade from the sleeve of his jacket. Raising his arm, he brought it down hard. And with a flash of light, Alastair collapsed.

He was dead. Danielle let out a small sob add he fell on top of her. Secretly, she was relieved that he'd been killed, but she wanted nothing more than to see him living again. To feel his warmth. Dean let out a small sigh, moving Alastair's lifeless body from Danielle's before lifting her to her feet. He pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into the crook of his neck.

"I know," he said as she began to speak. "But it's for the best."

"I know."

///

Back at the bunker, Danielle shut herself in her room. Every hour or so, she would hear a soft knock at her door, but she would kindly dismiss it. She had no time to waste. She began her second letter.

_Dear Sam,_

_I hate to do this to you. I hate myself for it, but I need you to know how I really feel. Yes, I truly did love you. You were were my first love, actually. But there's someone else. And I can't do that to you. Please don't hate me. I love you so much, Sammy._

She felt hot tears slip down her face as she wrote these thoughts.

_I just can't do this anymore._

///

Danielle was found with Dean's Angel Blade sticking from her chest cavity. Her eyes were open; bloodshot. But they weren't black. The green of her irises was faded, as if the blade had sucked the life from them. Jody was the only officer at the scene, for the bunker needed to be kept secret.

"Suicide," She reported quietly."She did this to herself. I'm sorry." She turned to hug the mourning brothers.

"She's happy now, " Sam whispered.

"That's all that matters," Dean managed to say. He clutched her letter to him in his left hand, tears staining it's front.

///

Danielle awoke to the smell of a leafy forest, but also to the stench of rotting flesh and metallic blood. She heard a gruff voice behind her

. "You just couldn't stay away, could you, angel face?"

"Alastair, what is this place?" She asked.

"Purgatory. Where monsters go to die," he replied, curling his thin lips into a malevolent smile.


End file.
